What's the big deal?

Newsworthy? Sure. Worthy of #4 spot on CNN's Latest News posts on home page? Definitely not. What are you trying to say, CNN?

I think the "Weekend at Bernie's" impersonator's are far more deserving of this honor.

Shirlington Village

Yesterday, Jeff and I looked at an apartment in Shirlington Village in Virginia. Though it’s just out of DC, it’d be a few metro stops and a 20 minute bus ride to get into the city.

The apartment was inconceivably beautiful, with a luxurious rooftop terrace, brand new cabinetry and appliances, a clubroom that looked like something out of a mansion and a workout room with personal televisions on all of the equipment. The leasing office treated us like royalty and we were drunk on indulgence.

Shirlington Village looked like something out of a storybook. Everything—restaurants, boutiques and bars—was new and crisp, down to the freshly laid bricks on the streets and sidewalks.

It had the charm of an old European town with the intrigue of the new and novel. It was perfect. A place a young girl always dreams of living with the one she’s going to marry.

I kept thinking, we could actually afford this. Sure it’s luxurious, but with its distance from the city combined with the dual income toward a one bedroom apartment, it wasn’t out of our price range.

The whole time we were there, I kept imagining bringing my parents to our new neighborhood. They’d be so impressed. She really made it, they’d think. I’d made it, I’d think.

I was so busy looking at designer clothes through store windows and reading restaurant names off awnings that I almost didn’t notice all the baby strollers and toddlers.

That’s when we realized what we’d be giving up by moving to this amazing apartment and this beautiful village—the rest of our youth.

If we lived so far away from the city, we’d probably rarely venture to DC for drinks with friends after work, and nights out on weekends. We probably wouldn’t have much opportunity to host friends from the city at our apartment. We’d make friends, but they’d most likely live near us, and would probably be older and maybe even have children.

We had a choice to make. Luxury verses location. Settling down verses relishing the last few years we have left of our youth.

Once we were out of the Shirlington Village, its spell released us fairly quickly and the decision was easy. Location. Nearby metro. Washington D.C.

I still plan on bringing my family to Shirlington Village when they visit. I know they’ll love it just as much as I did, and I can tell them Jeff and I will live here, one day, when we’re ready.

Good for the Jews

I finally finished "Good for the Jews." Actually, I finished a couple weeks ago but haven't had a chance to write about it until now.

I thought a lot about what to write this final post about, and eventually decided to basically respond to the post I wrote before I started reading.

In my first post, I quoted a Wisconsin State Journal article:

"Spark wanted to ruminate on how the United States seemed to be going after a false enemy in Iraq, and also how Jews are often perceived as much as victims as they are aggressors in Palestine. The idea of the good and the bad guys being hidden from view, living among the rest of society, intrigued her."

After reading this article, I was most interested in finding out how Spark portrayed the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that her commentary was almost entirely metaphorical. Though the book occasionally referred to the Middle East, Spark let the characters represent conflict rather than squeezing her own political rantings between dialogue tags.

Instead of forcing one opinion over the other, the book lays out the facts and lets the readers decide for themselves how they want to feel about the conflict between the characters, which I took as a representation for the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.

On the side of the Israelis you have Ellen (Esther) and her cousin Mose (Mordechai). I don't think Spark intended for Ellen to be unlikable, or come off as stupid, but I had a hard time rooting for her character. Though she is sweet and well-intentioned, she makes stupid decisions based on convenience and refuses to think about anything outside of her day-to-day life. She prefers her simple yet satisfied mindset. While her cousin Mose is a strong supporter of Israel, Ellen refuses to take sides.

Mose, on the other hand, would be very difficult to dislike. A smart and sassy old Jewish man, Mose knows everything and never fails to disseminate his never faulty knowledge to those around him.

He's a beloved teacher at a Madison high school that encourages teachers to think and teach creatively. When Hyman Clark takes over as principal, the two of them immediately clash and Mose is convinced Hyman is out to get him.

Mose's outrage at Hyman, who represents the Palestinians, seems paranoid at first. He takes unreturned e-mails, disapproval of his teaching style and more small details to mean anti-Semitism. You think, so you don't like your boss. That sucks. Not the end of the world.

But **Spoiler Alert** as time goes on, Hyman's actions worsen, until it becomes clear that his rage is targeted at Mose because he's a Jew. In the end, we find out Hyman was a former white supremacist in the south.

The story ends with Mose as the good guy and Hyman as the bad guy. Israel is the victim and the Palestinians are the aggressors. But woven in between Hyman's demonstrations of anti-Semitism and his disturbing past is his failing marriage and weakness of character. We find out he was once an accountant who lost his business to refugees simply because they were refugees. He was justifiably angry about his circumstances when he joined a club that promised they could do something about it.

Hyman is not a smart man, and didn't understand he was joining a white supremacist party. He thought he was just fighting for what was rightfully his. Of course, by the time he realized this he was already brainwashed with propaganda and a full-fledged Neo-Nazi.

Spark leaves it up to you if you want to feel sorry for Hyman. You certainly wouldn't take his side, but there's an element of tragedy in his story. He's lonely, vying for the love of his wife who seems to hate him, and doesn't understand why an honest worker suddenly lost a portion of his business. It's ignorance that makes him evil, not malice.

But, evil is evil and though you start to feel sorry for him, you recognize that this is not someone you would root for.

Of course, the Israeli/Palestinian conflict is much more complicated. I don't think Palestinians are evil. I think some Palestinians are evil (suicide bombers) and the rest just want to survive. There is certainly an element of tragedy to their story, and I do feel sorry for the innocent.

Still, when you take a step back and look at the issue as a whole, things look a lot different.

How to remember a tragedy

When I saw the trailer for Robert Pattinson movie, "Remember Me," the only thing that caught my attention was how many 13-year-old girls were going to rob their parents blind seeing it eight times in theaters. Like my proceeding generation's "Titanic," minus the Oscars.

But then I heard about the "twist" ending (skip to the 5th paragraph if you have any desire to see this film). Apparently, we're under the impression the story takes place in present day until the last moments, when it's revealed it's actually 2001 and RPatt walks into one of the towers.

This is hardly the first movie to make money off of a tragic 9/11 death, but it seems worse for some reason. Maybe it's the vampire who glitters in the sunlight turned terrorist victim, or the fact that the final scene was in no way related to the rest of the film.

I always have been skeptical of 9/11 movies. They argued they were memorializing the travesty, but in the end, they were still making money and getting famous.

But it makes me wonder about Holocaust movies. "Schindler's List" was not only one of the best movies ever made, but it had an element of honesty to it that I haven't seen in most other films based on real-life tragedies. Spielberg's intentions seemed pure, that he made the film to raise awareness, though I'm sure it didn't hurt his wallet or reputation.

A few weeks ago, Jeff and I saw "Shutter Island," starring Leonardo DiCaprio as a WWII vet traumatized by what he found in the camps. It didn't feel cheap or exploitive, and we both really liked the movie. But it's still a horror movie that used the Holocaust to enhance the thrill. I didn't even think of that until I heard about "Remember Me."

I've been to one Concentration Camp just outside of Prague. I visited Terezin as a sophomore in college when I went on an alternative spring break trip with the UW Hillel. It was actually on that trip that I met Jeff, and it was at that camp where we first had a meal alone together.

There was a restaurant in the middle of the camp. The tables were small and Jeff and I ended up alone at a table for two. In many ways it was the beginning. Later that night we had our first kiss.

The restaurant was on the nicer side, but they still played American rap music. It wasn't censored and they played unedited cuts they definitely wouldn't play on U.S. radio stations.

The thing was, it didn't feel that weird, because the whole experience didn't feel real. I tried so hard to imagine the horrors that must've occurred, but I just couldn't. I felt like I was looking at a recreation, a movie set. I wanted to feel what my ancestors must have felt when they were there, but I couldn't separate the place from what it was at present: a museum.

I felt the same way when I went to Yad Vashem in Israel. The photos of bodies piled on top of each other were in expensive frames, and the relics of family's stolen keepsakes were in pristine glass boxes. I wanted to be angry and scared and sad. I wanted to cry.

Watching movies that integrate the Holocaust or any tragedy, really, into their plot do the same thing to me. With the exception of movies that exist solely to portray the horrors of the time, these films make me connect a tragedy that should not be forgotten with blood sucking heart throbs and men who see ghosts.

I don't know how to make anything in history feel more real in the present day. Maybe it's just me, and other people can break through those museum quality barriers. Or maybe it wasn't a coincidence that I kissed Jeff for the first time the day I walked through the camp. It's possible we connected on a different level in a place so consequential in the history of our people.

But if that's the case, I didn't know it at the time. I just know when I think about the horrors of the Holocaust, I really hope I don't imagine Leonardo DiCaprio invading Germany at the end of the war.

Photo: Railroad tracks in Terezin

Where do we go from here?

It doesn't matter how smart, strong or mature you are. Serious decisions are some of the most difficult challenges we all has to face.

If you're lucky, like I was, your parents prepare you for these conundrums over time. Chocolate or vanilla ice cream? Do you want to be a cheerleader or a pumpkin for Halloween?

Deciding who to invite to your Birthday parties, how to confront friends that have let you down. Choosing classes in high school, and choosing a college.

But there's almost nothing anyone can do to prepare you to make life decisions with another person.

Sure you learn to compromise with your siblings, but our disagreements were better preparation for the LSAT than they were for a relationship. You learn to bargain down your opponent until you get as close to your way as possible.

No one tells you it doesn't work that way in a relationship. They tell you to be a strong woman, to put yourself first, to not give your life up chasing a boy.

But what happens when that boy supports you and respects you, and you realize that giving him up would be more than painful--it would be wrong.

So you have to decide together.

For the second year in a row, Jeff and I have had to decide where to live. Last year, when we were both still in college, it did not go well. We tried everything. We went through every hypothetical, we tried to compromise and we tried to weigh whose options were better where.

We realized we can prepare as much as we want, but most of the time, the end result is nowhere near what either of us would've predicted.

What I've learned through the process is to let go. I don't like to be surprised, and I don't like to wait for things to happen. But when it comes to things like uprooting your life, there's only so much you can do. Sometimes you just have to breathe and remind yourself you're strong enough to take in whatever's coming.

Jeff and I decided to move to Washington D.C. at the end of May. It was a long process and a hard decision, but it was better this year. We talked a lot and we worked hard to gather as much information as possible. But we had fun, too. We took breaks. We went to movies. We bought each other dinner. We reminded each other no matter what we decided, we'd be starting our lives together. There's no wrong answer for that.

In a relationship, you're supposed to compromise. But I don't see it like that. Compromising is a give and take. But I don't want to take anything away from him, and he doesn't want to take anything away from me. The perfect place for me might be a nightmare for us as a couple. The bottom line is, if your significant other isn't happy, there's no way you can be either.

In the end, we put all our cards on the table. We made pros and cons lists but we didn't use them. We talked, and then we put it all aside for a few days and the answer became clear. All facts aside, we knew where we wanted to be. We realized we'd known this all along.

Photo: Jeff and me in DC, battling the wind to pose for a photo

Good for the Jews (continued)

My dad brought up a good point. When I wrote that Esther seemed like a gold digger, he said she probably didn't have much of a say in the marriage. That makes a lot more sense, and is probably something I would have thought of if my Sunday and Hebrew school teachers hadn't stopped telling us the Purim story by the time we were 10 years old.

This is certainly not something I, nor any other kindergartner, would've picked up on either.

It just begs the question of how to best relay bible stories to children. Bible stories aren't like normal children's stories. People are ruthless, people die and there's not always a clear moral.

Like the story where God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son to prove his devotion for him. In the end, God praises Abraham for his loyalty to his God and to his religion. No one dies, but what's the moral here? If God tells you to jump off a bridge, don't question, just jump?

Do we really want to teach our children that there may be some instance where it's ok to burn your loved ones alive?

Whether or not Esther was forced into her marriage doesn't really matter because at 6-years-old, we were told that one of the heroines of the Jewish religion willingly married a man who may or may not have cut her head off if he found out who she really was because he was in a position of power.

I don't think we have to change or edit the stories for the kids, but maybe frame them a bit differently. Put Abraham in a dark light for what he was willing to do instead of a pious one. Talk about why he might have done it and why his reasons would be obsolete now (namely that God doesn't speak to anyone unless they're raving lunatics).

Explain Esther's oppression, don't frame her as a simple girl who struck a gold mine because the king thought she was hot. She'd be even more of a heroine when she reveals who she really is to save the Jews, because the risk to her own life would be much more prevalent.

Good for the Jews

I finally started "Good for the Jews" in time for purim. The book arrived in the mail and I finished my previous book just in time to start on this modernized Purim story last weekend. It was a complete coincidence. I'm not that organized and I'm not that cute.

I'm only a few chapters in, but the novel is surprisingly true to the ancient tale. The story starts out with school superintendent Alex buying a provocative designer dress in New York for his wife Valerie. He gets drunk with his friends one night and asks her to model it for them. She says no, he says you don't support me, and then, divorce.

Of course, the refusal to model the dress was only the metaphorical final straw in an already failing relationship, whereas in the original story, when the king Ahasuerus asked Vashti to dance naked at his feast, it's unclear whether this was Vashti's last chance, or this one act of disobedience was all it took to get her banished or killed, depending on the version of the story.

As I was thinking back to all the times I've heard the Purim story over the years, something odd struck me in my recollection as an observer. As a child, when I heard about Vashti being banished for her refusal to strip and young, beautiful Esther taking her place as wife and queen, I remember almost laughing at Vashti, thinking, "ha, bet she's sorry" about the woman who disobeyed her husband and lost her crown.

This recollection really bothered me. Why should I have thought this about a woman with integrity, who gave up her life of luxury out of respect for her body and herself?

Probably because Esther is the heroine of the Purim story, and without Vashti's rebellion, she would never have been allowed to step into the light.

Now I wonder about Esther herself. For all those years, she was portrayed as sweet, innocent and naive. But looking back from an adult perspective, she kind of seems like a gold digger. Marrying a man she doesn't love for status.

Anyway, in "Good for the Jews" Valerie (Vashti) is a really likable character. You automatically respect her decision not to put her body on display for her drunk husband and his friends. She's sharp-tongued and self-respecting, but at the same time, we see her vulnerability. Her husband's a jerk, but her heart still breaks at the thought of losing him, though she's completely unwilling to sacrifice her integrity to save her marriage.

As for the gold-digging Esther, "Good for the Jews'" Ellen seems respectable enough, though her romance with Alex hasn't taken off just yet. So far, she's a young, low maintenance, Madisonian hippy, like a lot of the girls I went to school with. It's been interesting following her around my city, placing her in both an ancient story while intersecting with the place and time of my own life.

Photo: Kids celebrating Purim in a 1950 classroom